Heartless
by crescent-moon-demon
Summary: Loreddion doesn't believe in love. Drabble-ish, mentions of multiple LoreddionxOthers


**C.M.D: Just a little drabble I decided to do, spur of the moment. Trying a present-tense type of approach when writing. **

Loreddion doesn't believe in love. He never has.

Maybe it has something to do with the nightmares that plagues the Silvanesti; the horror and evil he was put through when he was a child, later forced to bury the tortured, grotesque corpse of his own mother.

Maybe it's because he just doesn't care.

He thinks this is more likely than the latter, but the Silvanesti isn't about to psychoanalysis himself. He knows he is the furthest from sane.

But that's alright. He gets a sick sort of pleasure out of the things he does. Especially those in bed.

There have been many. Loreddion doesn't have a concern whether it's right or not. If he wants it, he's going to get it. That's how it's always been. His partners themselves have never been that unwilling either, really. It's surprising how easy they all succumb. Jirah declares her love for Ryhdain vehemently, but that doesn't stop her from slipping into his bed on more than one occasion. He accepts her; all her clingy, desperate grasping and everything. She is amusing in a sense- a bit of a screamer.

He's banged Koi as well once. Admittedly, they were both more than a little drunk, but the sex was great all the same. It's amazing seeing the tiny little warrior loose her composure, to have her begging for more. Loreddion wouldn't mind another romp with the Kender. Koi has some interesting... tastes. Stuff that turns him on in retrospect.

He figures she'll come knocking at his door soon. He's caught her sneaking glances at him these past couple weeks.

His favourite though has to be Nearra.

She has the same rigidness as the knights of Solamnia; an only-good-and-evil division line of belief as the priests of Paladine. Like a child trying to play the adult, wanting- no, needing- to always be in the right.

* * *

><p>Nearra hates him. Loreddion knows this. She hates him more than anything else; more than the numerous enemies they've fought, more than injustice, more than Maddoc or even Takhesis.<p>

When Nearra comes to his room at the Conclave, he opens the door and lets her in with a smirk. She'll glare at him -refuse to enter for a few minutes- but eventually, she always comes inside.

From there, it's quick. She'll undress herself, considering him to inferior to touch her at this point. As soon as her robes are around her ankles, she's all his. He leaps, unafraid of the repercussions; knocks her to the bed.

Foreplay is never a part of the equation. It's not something that Nearra wants, Loreddion knows, because it'll conflict with her perspective of their relationship. She gives him some leverage, bending and arching in compliance with the dark elf. She bites her lip though when he touches her in the places that she's forbidden him from before, areas like her breasts and pliable ass.

It's arousing knowing that in this situation she can't simply stop him from doing this. He lets his hands travel across her body; cupping her closer as he thrusts inside her warm passage; teeth nibbling at her collarbone and teats. Even now, as they get further into the throes of their lust, Nearra tries her best to keep silent.

It's not long before he's reached his peak. His seed spurts deep inside of Nearra; its presence sets off the blonde's own climax. She arches up against him, releasing the first, loud moan she's made all that night. She allows herself a moment to blink away the momentary stupor that the ecstasy induces, before she's pushing him away.

She grabs her robes and slips them on quickly, not glancing back at him once. Loreddion again doesn't mind. He leans casually on the soiled sheets, grinning crookedly. His back hurts from where her nails clawed at his skin, and he knows that she feels some semblance of pain as well. Her lips and surrounding skin will be raw from all her gnawing; her thighs already darker in coloration. But the White Robe will ignore the pain, as she always does. When she's dressed, Nearra doesn't waste any further words or actions on the Silvanesti; she leaves immediately.

Loreddion watches her disappear down the dark streets of Palanthas from the window in the hallway outside his room, contemplating the next time they meet up. Nearra will never come to him when it isn't night, and not until she's waited long enough to eradicate their last meeting from her conscience. She'll hold off as long as possible, until morality and proper ethics can no longer keep back her anger or frustration. Then she'll back.

It's a twisted relationship, if one can call it that. Loreddion still enjoys it. Again, he admits that he gets a sick pleasure from the way things play out between them. Having Nearra fall to this level of humility and degradation -polluting the _purity_ she struggles so hard to keep- brings a cruel smile to his pale lips.

He wonders vaguely if Nearra knows that he's screwing her sister on the side...

It wouldn't surprise him if she knew. The blonde can be callous in that way too.

Still, Nearra comes and Loreddion looks forward to the angry, heavy ruts that they share.

After all, Loreddion's never had a fuck as good as Nearra.

And love is nothing but the pathetic delusions of the rest of the world.

**C.M.D: Like? Hate? Not often that I write straight pairings, but I would have to say I quite enjoyed this match-up. Did you? Review and tell me your thoughts!  
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